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Item No. comdagen-6602032538171745502
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Description

bacon and coffee, and coffee-pot and frying-pan, and sugar and tin cups, and the nigger was set back considerable, because he reckoned it was all done with witchcraft. I catched a good big catfish, too, and Jim cleaned him with his knife, and fried him. When breakfast was ready we lolled on the grass and eat it smoking hot. Jim laid it in with all his might, for he was most about starved.  Then when we had got pretty well stuffed, we laid off and lazied.  By and by Jim says: “But looky here,

Details

death, around the chief they stand, A grim, terrific, formidable band: Grim as voracious wolves, that seek the springs(244) When scalding thirst their burning bowels wrings; When some tall stag, fresh-slaughtered in the wood, Has drench'd their wide insatiate throats with blood, To the black fount they rush, a hideous throng, With paunch distended, and with lolling tongue, Fire fills their eye, their black jaws belch the gore, And gorged with slaughter still they thirst for more. Like furious, rush'd the Myrmidonian crew, Such their dread strength, and such their deathful view. High in the midst the great Achilles stands, Directs their order, and the war commands. He, loved of Jove, had launch'd for Ilion's shores Full fifty vessels, mann'd with fifty oars: Five chosen leaders the fierce bands obey, Himself supreme in valour, as in sway. First march'd Menestheus, of celestial birth, Derived from thee, whose waters wash the earth, Divine Sperchius! Jove-descended flood! A mortal mother mixing with a god. Such was Menestheus, but miscall'd by fame The son of Borus, that espoused the dame. Eudorus next; whom Polymele the gay, Famed in the graceful dance, produced to-day. Her, sly Cellenius loved: on her would gaze, As with swift step she form'd the running maze: To her high chamber from Diana's quire, The god pursued her, urged, and crown'd his fire. The son confess'd his father's heavenly race, And heir'd his mother's swiftness in the chase. Strong Echecleus, bless'd in all those charms That pleased a god, succeeded to her arms; Not conscious of those loves, long hid from fame, With gifts of price he sought and won the dame; Her secret offspring to her sire she bare; Her sire caress'd him with a parent's care. Pisander follow'd; matchless in his art To wing the spear, or aim the distant dart; No hand so sure of all the Emathian line, Or if a surer, great Patroclus! thine. The fou